Withering To Death
by aki.ari
Summary: It's cold here. Then again it's always cold when I'm away from you. Hey Kanda, do you know that the wind whispers when you're alone? Yullen
1. Merciless Cult

**Merciless Cult**

He's always been cruel, cold and condescending. Allen had known that when he'd begun to have these irrevocable feelings. His ethereal silver eyed gaze lingering on the object of this painful obsession. The cafeteria was bustling like normal and there he was, sitting alone as always. Allen couldn't help himself as he took in the older male's dangerous beauty; from the sleek navy hair that caressed his back and framed his perfectly frightening face, to the delicate shift of muscles under his skin as he moved. Yes, Kanda was infinitely gorgeous to the cursed exorcist.

It was a foolish and unprecedented yearning that brewed within him and it only caused his damaged heart to ache all the more. Kanda was arrogant, and the only thing ultimately precious to him was Mugen. On more than one occasion he'd expressed his hatred for Allen, the naïve, martyring Moyashi. Even so, Allen felt his traitorous heart skip a beat when their eyes met across the room, the dark scowl directed directly at him.

_The pessimistic you_

_The merciless you_

_And the self loving you,_

_What are you looking at?_

It had to be perfect, had to go by without a hitch. Every mission with Kanda gave Allen chills. They were so different; though their goals were the same their priorities were polar opposites. Even if he tried, he couldn't see through Kanda's plans or understand his logic.

Once again paired for a mission and heading out to the small port town in Ireland, the feelings of distasteful desire continued to grow. Even as every lashing word split another bloody line upon his heart, his gaze lingered ever longer; taking in the sharp and unforgiving features of a true warrior for God.

Finally at their destination, standing atop a ridge overlooking the sea, silver eyes traced the innocence hovering just out of reach – so very close. Kanda too was observing the precariously placed fragment of God's crystal, a calloused hand wrapped around Allen's wrist without a single word of warning as he swung him towards the innocence.

What was one to do when his partner would toss him at the innocence, which was otherwise out of reach, in order to collect it later from his broken body at the bottom of the cliff?

'How foolish that it would only make me love you more,' Allen thought revelling in the blissful contact.

_With comparing and getting things in proportions you scream out mad_

_You wanted this ending to happen_

_You must be a romanticist_

The hand that was to let go did not and pulled Allen back safely to solid ground. Innocence clutched tightly in his trembling fingers. Hope? The rapidly beating organ in his chest threatened to break his ribs with the force, spurred into movement by the all consuming flame threatening to swallow him whole and reduce him to noting but ashes. Yes, that warmth suffusing throughout Allen's body could be nothing else, though, the dark expression he found in those cobalt depths was a painful reminder.

Silver eyes remained locked in that unwavering ocean of storms as the innocence was plucked from his hand, with no more acknowledgment to his still trembling hands and sweaty nervous palms.

If only Allen hadn't looked, if only he had kept his gaze away from the harsh pools of suffocating cobalt, he may have been able to fantasize a little bit longer. The blissful dream falls away with another crack upon its tarnished surface.

_But I just remembered that there is no love here_

_Over and over somewhere begins to break_

On the way back home Allen's heart bled, swelling with pain, the shadows of doubt and whispers of insanity dragging his uncertainty to new heights.

'Do you crave pain?' the voice in his mind pressed heavily on his strained thoughts, 'is it penance and salvation you seek in that man?'

His obsession, so very wrong.

'Is your self destruction not enough?' the sinfully tempting voice slithering through the aching recesses of a fading existence, 'is your curse not enough punishment for your transgressions?'

His agony, so very piteous.

'Your innocence is crying boy, can't you hear it?' the taunting voice mocking his misfortune, scraping trenches into his already torn resolve, 'little God forsaken warrior, you no longer have the strength to continue this farce.'

His tears, so very undeserving – such a twisted child just wants to be loved.

_Please love me, this blood and the meaning_

_Please love me, this day and this value_

Returning as always, the mask of joy, though rough around the edges, persists as he is greeted by smiles and congratulations of another completed mission. He exchanges pleasantries as he is ushered towards the cafeteria to gorge on the delicious food he can no longer taste.

Kanda has long since left his side, giving the mission report alone as usual. Still, silver eyes drifted to the empty table where the male would always eat his meals.

The carefree nature of the exuberant and all too hypocritical redhead drew his attention away from the empty table to the amethyst eyed female chattering about her past mission, urging Allen to speak of his. Conversation and companionship, they all seemed to crave it with everything they were. All dying on the inside and yet the masks – just like his – do not falter.

Another smile, another laugh, another sacrifice to his merciless God.

Tired, so very tired, Allen apologized to his friends and retired to his room. He hides away from the false joy and the empty words. He hides away from the overflowing desire. He wanted him so badly, needed the steel touch against his skin, aching for a man who could never love him.

'Why such a masochist?' the voice is back, tendrils of smoky decadence dancing on his warping vision, 'do you not hurt enough like this?'

Allen felt the tremors wrack his body as he collapsed, falling to the ground in a shivering heap. Knees curled to his chest and head splitting in pain, he bit back his screams. Silver eyes leaked tears, and his vision bled scarlet as the blood oozed from his long healed scar. The tears thickened, crystal rivers running obsidian.

_Gasp for breath_

* * *

A/N: So this is the first chapter of a strange new story by yours truly. A few months ago I was listening to Withering to Death, an album by Dir en Grey and had a spark of inspiration. Merciless Cult is the first song on the album and the italicized portions of text are the translations of that song as found in the album's insert. Each chapter of this story is going to be surrounding a song in the album; there are fourteen songs so there will be fourteen chapters.

I think I have enough of the story drafted out that there won't be any inconsistencies, even so I don't know how long it'll be until I get the next chapter up – I've been quite busy lately.

Anyway thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed my works.

Comments are welcomed – they make me happy :)


	2. C

**C**

'Baka Moyashi,' Kanda thought eyes darkening with resentment, 'always hiding away behind that insufferable mask.' Allen was utterly infuriating to the Japanese exorcist.

Lenalee laughed, a sound of dancing bells as she smiles at Allen. The boy has undoubtedly said something again, something sweet and apparently rather humorous if the Chinese girl's reaction was any indication. Not that it mattered, it was just more of that senseless, light conversation that they seemed to thrive on.

'Fools,' Kanda frowned as he took in the interaction with distaste. She loved him; it couldn't possibly be any more obvious. The older male vaguely wondered if the boy could be anymore oblivious or if he was intentionally pretending he couldn't see the adoration and desire in her amethyst eyes? Couldn't he see that her gaze followed him wherever he went and that her smile was always twice as bright when he was in the room?

'Fucking retards, the whole lot of them,' Kanda thought acrimoniously, having lost his appetite watching the fake gentlemen dole out pleasantries to his fake princess. It was more than clear that the cursed exorcist was bleeding. Even so, the damnable smile never faded.

_That's right, just ask that pig with meat_

_That you lose your heart because you spend money to fulfill_

_That girl laughs at your sorry face_

_That's right, the love underneath the suit_

_That's right, the politeness underneath the suit_

'What is it you're thinking?' Kanda couldn't help but wonder as his cobalt eyes traced the silver eyed boy, the soft childlike face, the snowy locks framing the pale cheeks, across his jaw and down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

'Why are you always looking at them with such a fake joy?' Kanda's hand clenched around his chopsticks as his eyes travelled further still, to the long sleeves and the glove hiding his innocence from view. Even from his distance Kanda could feel the pain rolling off Allen in waves, and yet that smile…

'I hate you,' Kanda thought as he slammed his chopsticks onto his tray of barely touched soba. As if having heard Kanda's thoughts, Allen glanced over and found himself staring directly into unforgiving cobalt.

'Kanda?' Allen thought as he cocked his head to the side in question to the intense glare he was receiving from the older male. He quickly wracked his mind for anything that he may have done to upset the man in the past couple of hours and kept coming up blank. The again Kanda never really needed a reason to be pissed off; it _was_ his default emotion after all.

'Baka Moyashi,' Kanda thought, the fury in his glare near tangible as the navy haired male stood abruptly and stalked towards the cafeteria doors. 'Keep smiling baka, keep faking till you die.'

Pausing at the door Kanda glanced back to see that Allen had resumed his conversation with Lenalee as if they hadn't just shared the silent interaction. 'Stop looking at her like that,' Kanda thought, willing the boy to obey his unspoken command, 'stop humoring her!'

Allen continued to smile and chat amicably with the amethyst eyed exorcist. 'You won't,' Kanda thought as his scowl intensified, 'you never will.'

In Kanda's eyes Allen was nothing but a self-sacrificing fool. And he wanted nothing more than to break his façade and see the anger, the frustration, the tears – whatever the heck was hiding under that mask he wanted to see it.

_Even if you don't know the answer to the simple question of C_

_The eyes to see the reality is far more important_

_I laugh at the sorry sky_

_That's right, the love underneath the sunny day_

_That's right, underneath the sunny day…_

Nearly to his room, Kanda was accosted by the cheerfully hypocritical Bookman's apprentice.

"Why so angry Yuu?" Lavi asked grinning as he slung an arm around the Japanese male's shoulder.

"Get lost Baka Usagi," without hesitation Kanda drew Mugen, the tip coming into close proximity with the redhead's throat. Lavi put his hands up in mock surrender as he took in the darkness in Kanda's eyes, an unquantifiable rage.

"Allen and Lenalee seem to be getting closer lately. I'm so jealous, I want him all to myself," Lavi laughed though he followed the blade with his emerald eye carefully for any sign of movement, "but you can have him if you really want him Yuu." The stupid grin that claimed to know more truth about something than he should rightfully know splitting his features as Kanda glowered at him.

How the navy haired male hated the monochrome world of idiots and blind fools. Sheathing Mugen and brushing past Lavi rather violently Kanda headed towards his room. The male was always right, but like hell he'd ever admit to his fixation with the exorcist known as Allen Walker – such gray feelings.

_All you people looking at me, you just say what you want_

_You never come and reach your hand out to me_

_You buy love for me on my birthday_

_Today it's cloudy and partly rain_

"He has a mission again tomorrow," Lavi called after the retreating samurai, "poor kid has to go by himself. You should offer to go with him Yuu."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Kanda snapped as he shot a glare over his shoulder though his thoughts reflected something rather different than what he'd voiced, 'you have no idea how much I want to.'

"I would if I weren't already heading out this evening," Lavi said shrugging as he followed Kanda down the hall to his room.

Cobalt always sought out ivory. Skin as smooth looking as fresh cream, eyes liquid silver pools of moonlight and hair the silkiest strands of snow; Allen was in all appearance, complete purity. But his darkness was suffocating, almost its own manifestation of tangible misery.

_Actually, I want to love the world before me_

_Actually I do, but_

"Get the hell out. Who gives a shit about that brat? If he can't take care of himself then he's better off dead," cold words, meant to hurt slipped past Kanda's lips mentally trying to affirm that he didn't give a damn, 'that's right, the little brat deserves to die.'

"That's pretty harsh," Lavi muttered sadly, he knew Kanda didn't really feel that way. He knew the male would be devastated if Allen ever did die. The feelings weren't worn on his sleeves but the apprentice Bookman could see the reckless will to protect in the cobalt depths.

"Che," Kanda scoffed ushering Lavi out of his room before slamming the door shut.

They were all a fucking tragic parody.

'He'll never show his true face,' Kanda thought as he leaned his forehead against the door, 'always putting on a front for everyone.' Kanda was under the impression that Allen probably couldn't do anything _for_ himself if he tried, having never done so. Always living for the sake of others and always playing the hero and savior even when doomed to bear the cross of a destroyer.

'Be a bastard if that's what you are, bitch if that's what you want to do,' Kanda thought hands curling into fists against the door, 'your damn hypocrisy is killing me.'

"Continue to drown in yourself," Kanda whispered voice cold and bitter, "I'll never stop hating you."

_Dead freedom_

_If you've forgotten how to scream then scream right here and live right here_

_I will scream as much as I want and if my voice dies, then let my voice die_

_If you've forgotten how to scream then scream right here and live right here_

_I will scream no matter how many times I die _

_My voice will die_

_But I will scream right here my heart_

_We can dive_

* * *

A/N: So the second chapter is finally up, hope it doesn't disappoint anyone. Final exams are in April so classes are going to be crazy from now until then. I apologize for taking so long to get this up, and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up in a couple of weeks tops.

If you've been following my LJ, I mentioned that I was writing something for the Lantern Festival. I haven't finished it but it is coming along quite nicely. I'm hoping that it won't be too long before I can post it.

Anyway thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed my works.

Comments are welcomed – they make me happy :)


	3. Saku

**Saku**

Another lonely mission found Allen on the outskirts of a dreary town lost amongst the folds of an enterprising metropolis of advancement.

'Such a dark city,' Allen thought as he wandered away from the fringe of the town, 'so cold like him.' Kanda was much like this town, hard and cold and unshakeable in its foundations. The man, like this town remained the same no matter what changes were occurring around him. But unlike Kanda this town was filthy in its wretched cruelty. A grime centuries old clinging to its walls, a decay that only got worse with the passing of the years.

A couple months ago it would have seemed terrifying to Allen, the idea of Kanda monopolizing his thoughts. But it had become so common place that if he were to suddenly stop, if his obsession suddenly came to a screeching halt, he'd be thrown off balance. He often wondered if the voice in his head was right and the reason for his obsession with Kanda was the pain of knowing it would never work out. Allen almost laughed at the thought; Kanda would kill him if he knew that he was playing cameos in Allen's dreams every night. He'd probably beat him within an inch of his life and then wait for him to recover just so that he could do it again; after all, there was no forgiveness for such disgusting feelings. Men weren't supposed to yearn for other men.

If Allen had been more devout, he'd have feared the wrath of God and the scorn of the church for his sinful feelings, but what would a little orphan boy know of God? Everything he'd ever learned of the supposed merciful creator had been from Mana, and though he retained the beliefs to a certain extent, he couldn't help but criticize the idea of this almighty being. He was fighting as his representative in a war that was surely doing more harm than good and he was following the orders because it was all he could do. He had no merit in this world, his worth lay only in how useful he was to the Vatican's cause and even that was diminishing at a pace that could put the passing of time to shame. No one knew as yet, but the voices he heard and the things he saw...

Allen was going mad and with his dwindling sanity he could think of little else but the object of his obsession, the man who was everything he wasn't and more. Kanda was perfection personified and Allen had long since longed to be accepted by the male – even before his foolish obsession blossomed.

Shaking his head as he continued on through the town, Allen's heart clenched painfully in his chest, the discord resonating through his innocence making itself known. A Noah couldn't have innocence, a Noah destroyed innocence and innocence destroyed Noah; it was the paradox that made the end of this so called holy war so very daunting – what was the end if not the destruction of both sources of conflicting power. In this sense Allen figured that he was the prototype for this horrific end.

'Power,' a voice like molasses drawled, 'it is what we are.'

Stiffening at the voice violating his thoughts Allen hastened his pace.

'Your power is so fickle, so unsteady,' the unwelcome voice echoed in Allen's mind, lazily wrapping its inky tendrils around him and forcing him to face the worries and uncertainties that never breeched the surface. 'Can you hear it? Does it pain you?'

He was an exorcist, and the innocence was his weapon, while at the same time functioning as his life. Should he loose himself and the Noah in him take over...

Noah couldn't wield innocence.

The innocence is God's crystal. Power to fight and power to protect. What becomes of broken fragments without a user? Chaos. If this is such pure good power meant to be used in God's stead, why cause such misery?

Doubt. This world is so grey it hurts to breathe.

_Where's the fortunate future?_

_Where does our fortunate future come?_

Silver eyes raked over the sorrow and misery permeated streets. A man lying in an alley way dead, murdered. A woman crying and screaming, she is violated in these accursed streets. Cringing at the disgusting sight Allen wondered why he was fighting to save them. Humans caused more pain onto themselves than anything else. Bleeding, suffering and spiralling into insanity day after blissfully ignorant day. Those people didn't know of akuma but would they stop if it meant creating less of those creatures? No, humans have always been cruel and self serving. He was no stranger to humanities scorn. He knew all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of such agony.

Such malicious creatures.

"Why hello there gorgeous," Allen stiffened as hands snaked around his shoulders and waist.

"I don't want any trouble, let me go now and I won't hurt you," Allen said earning only scornful laughter for his efforts and suddenly he was the terrified little child again – the streets his home.

"Hurt us?" one of the men jeered, "the little bitch thinks he can hurt us." The men dragged Allen up against a wall, not even bothering to take him down an alley where they could attempt their violently horrid deed in privacy.

The hands were firm against his arms and he desperately wished to invoke his innocence but it wasn't responding to his fear.

Touching, hands raking over him, sickening.

'Why do you hesitate?' the voice is back, it sounds mildly amused, 'do you wish these vile creatures to defile you? Your body remains the only pure thing you have is it not?'

Tasting, sandpaper tongues flickering over his jaw and up his cheek – disgusting, repulsive.

'Is this punishment you seek?' the voice is near mocking, 'feeling so filthy you wish this humiliation upon yourself – a twisted sense of penance perhaps?'

Aching, mind splitting in agony.

'If you won't fight them, run you fool!' the voice spurs him on. And he is running, kicked the men off and ran without looking back. Fighting to save them? Holy war? What bloody bullshit. The place he is to protect lies just past this town's borders and he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down.

'Complete the mission and get out,' the words repeated like a mantra in his head.

He almost laughed as he considered his desperation. How much easier it was for this cursed child to live amongst akuma – the demons were simple and their company wasn't over bearing and frightening to him like humans. Just destroy the shell and save their souls. No words or obligations, nothing but killing and saving, contact that was never more than a couple minutes.

Each time he sets them free his wishes he could go with them.

'Won't you take me with you?' he could hear his own voice pleading, arms outstretched in longing.

Misery, he may as well have been the embodiment of the treacherous shadow. The streets were cold this time of year; then again the streets were always cold for him – the piercing glares and repulsed people – what was a poor child to do.

A distant memory settles in, glassy eyes unseeing to the familiar state of the streets he passed. He'd known streets like these; he'd lived on streets like these. No matter where he went or how much time passed, the dismal drowning streets followed him with dark whispers of a past that he wished he could forget, a past that came with a smiling man with a top hat and welcoming hand.

If only back then he'd known that the smile, like the one he now wore, had been only a mask.

_Dick men_

_Fuck off fuck off_

_And wipe_

_[Get back my merrily memory]_

Mocking – the constant scornful glances and the words meant to hurt seep into his mind – but _that_ he is used to. Ever since as long as he could remember, such had been the daily norm.

The child runs, but they pursue. Is there no salvation for a child forsaken by life's false pity?

Uncertainty – the hand reaching out to him and the smile adorning the pleasant face spark hope within his heart – but that would not last. The days are less than perfect and yet are exponentially better than those of his once lonely existence.

The child clings to the passing days, hoping forever to preserve them – icy fragments of winter's ghost see the coming spring but speak nothing of it. Is there no eternal winter for a child with nothing, save for the kindly smiling snowmen and elaborate ice castles of his dreams?

Loathsome – the shadow of his sin and the crimson stain of his betrayal giving rise to an all encompassing guilt – but it would continue to grow. The darkness would deepen, the days no longer seeing the blush of innocence on his precious memories.

The child cries, but no matter his denial the tortuous truth is seen in the sprouts of green rupturing the sheet of white, and his snowy wonderland melts away. Tears fall like rain as the dream slips through his frostbitten fingers.

Resignation – he should hope and pray but it's all meaningless, despair is more befitting – even as the smile is painted onto his porcelain flesh. No one is listening. No one is even there. Not for the demon child with the disfigured arm. Not for the cursed child with the crimson scar.

Fear it, punish it and hate it for the blood that still flows. Hands forever stained.

_Under the sun_

_To be revealed as if you were to be ridiculed, the disclosure of the flow of the red river_

Once lost the paradise called ignorance can never be brought back. Their eyes hollow, bodies mangled and spilling putrid odours into the air. Too late to save them. All the fault of one forsaken child. Allen fell to his knees amidst the rubble, crystal tears brimming in greying mercury eyes.

'Why do you cry?' the sardonic mocking giving way to genuine curiosity.

Why _did_ he cry? Allen couldn't even begin to answer such a question. He cried because his grief was too much for his body to contain and it would spill out. Was that a viable answer? Silver eyes darkened, a smile twisting up his lips ever so slightly.

"Why do I feel the need to respond to a voice in my head?" Allen slowly brought his disfigured arm up to touch the curse mark on his eye. "Why do you think that is?"

There was no response. The clouds darkened, the sky pitched into an endless night, the little lonely boy so very lost. Scarlet stained tears continue to fall.

Useless, worthless, damned.

_You walk the mountain road made of corpses smiling_

_Again you reach out and ants gather around the lily_

_Under the sun_

_People that can't redeem have ash, tears, and taciturnity in both their hands…_

_What's Cruel is that the Sun and the Moon comes together_

_Even tomorrow looks away_

_On the Red Day you question taciturnity and…_

* * *

A/N: Chapter three up for your reading pleasure. This chapter is very Allen-centric and there isn't much in the way of plot advancement, even so I hope it wasn't disappointing. And before I forget, I wanted to wish everyone a Happy White Day.

Anyway thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed my works.

Comments are welcomed – they make me happy :)


	4. Kodoku Ni Shisu, Yueni Kodoku

**Kodoku Ni Shisu, Yueni Kodoku**

"Welcome home Allen."

Lenalee had long ago made it her practice to wait to greet Allen as he returned from his missions whenever she was able to. Her smile falters, and she curses herself for not being as reserved as Kanda, or as carefree as Lavi.

His smile is as bright as always, his eyes reflecting none of the sadness and regret that plagues him. It is the same trivial interaction that they have shared for the past couple of years. It had once meant the world to Allen to have someone waiting for his return; he didn't know how long he'd yearned for a place that he could call home that would welcome him as Lenalee always did. But as he stood there, weighed down by disdain he could feel no comfort in her presence.

As he meets her warm amethyst gaze he inwardly cringes. She is worried for him, the concern written across her face as plain as the heavy clouds rolling in across the sky. She has undoubtedly heard from Komui that he'd met with the already ruined town and she knows that he is aching for it. What she doesn't know is how much more he hurts because she looks at him like that. She has no way to know how much he wishes she would match his smile with her own and continue pretending without getting into the messy business of feelings.

With an inhale of breath he walks past her, the girl falling into step at his side. He doesn't look at her as they ascend the stairs towards the main hall of the Order, doesn't allow his expression to falter in the slightest even as he begins to contemplate what it was he was being welcomed to every time she said, "welcome home."

The Black Order was his home wasn't it? It was where he lived; it was where the people he held most dear to him also lived, and more importantly it was the place that he longed for when he was away on missions. Was that enough grounds to render it his home? Or did the feeling of welcome have to exist in all those who resided within its walls? What's more, was he allowed to call it his home if he no longer felt the same need to return to it?

'Ungrateful.' The thought registered in his mind long before he'd begun to address his wavering feelings towards the Order's main headquarters.

'Baka,' the familiar word echoed in Allen's thoughts drawing an unbidden tug of humor to his lips. Surely he was mad for taking any sort of pleasure in the thought of a certain navy haired male scoffing condescendingly down at him. 'Funny that you would ever serve to _lighten_ my mood.'

Allen paused, one hand on his door and the other on the brass knob that was always immensely cold to the touch. Silver eyes glanced to his side where Lenalee had been walking with him only moments before and sighed at his own inattentiveness. He'd barely registered the loss of warmth at his side before it was almost completely gone, the vague whispers of her bidding him goodnight lingering in his ears like a distant memory. Such negligence was uncharacteristically cold for Allen, and he reprimanded himself for it as he pushed his door open.

"Don't worry Allen you can't save 'em all," Allen stiffened as he glanced over his shoulder to be met with vibrant scarlet hair and a gleeful emerald eye, "you can't blame yourself for something that happened when you weren't even there, there's nothing you could have done."

Lavi is always so cheerful, exuding a relaxed and untroubled air. The apprentice bookman knew exactly what to say to ease a person's gloom. As easily as he'd said that there was nothing that could have been done, he could have said that Allen had just been too late – both were fact, but the later would have emphasized fault on Allen's part despite the consoling nature of the words. Allen was well aware of this, but still could find no comfort to the words his friend had spoken.

A smile lit Allen's face as he nodded his thanks, laughing lightly as Lavi slung an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair.

By their actions anyone would think that their worlds were all marshmallow clouds and candy raindrops. Sometimes they too would be won over by their act, fooled by their own con – more so in days long gone than in those of recent. While they were similar in their guises, they were far from the same – Lavi's darkness was of a different shade that Allen's.

'Bookman who sees all…still can't possibly understand my turmoil.'

_I have lived in restrict I want to disappear more then to forget_

_I laugh back at people like you, who act like you understand_

Mercury eyes watched listlessly as the grey clouds that had been over the distant horizon the evening before, rolled over the hazy midday sky.

'Looks like it's going to rain,' Allen thought absently, idly tracing circles on the chilled glass. His countenance was much more somber than normal but he worried little about being caught in such a mood – it was rare to come across people in these far hallways of the order. There wasn't anything of note nearby so such a thing wasn't even the slightest bit odd.

'The ringleader's in an awful mood.' Allen stiffened at the voice settling into his mind. It wasn't shock that caused his hand to fall away from the glass, nor was it unease that made the muscles in his shoulders and back become taught. He was already used to the intrusive voice, but what was said…

'I don't like the crowd here. They want to be cheered up on a day like this but–' the voice held only cold amusement, as words from long ago tightened around his heart.

"Shut up!" Allen hissed, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

'You're still going?' There was humor in the voice as it persisted.

The image was obscured, surfacing in cloudy patches. A chestnut haired child complains to the back of a clown; the umbrella doing little to keep dry the man's clothing. The boy doesn't understand the point of performing to an uncertain end.

Allen closed his eyes, willing the surfacing memories away as he stalked down the hall in his haste to escape the…escape the what? What exactly was he running from? A voice in his head? A memory of his childhood that was far from unpleasant?

'Why play yourself to the guillotine for an audience that wishes forever for tomorrow?'

The words echoed in Allen's head as his strides slowed until they stopped altogether, standing still in the middle of the hall surrounded by the silence that exists only between his thoughts.

"Because this is all that I can do," Allen whispered – words that had once belonged to Mana. A sorrowful little smile turned up Allen's lips.

The Order was all smiles because their white knight had returned. So safe they feel, so enraptured by grandiose images of heroes and epic battles from which they would emerge victorious. 'They keep smiling as if they'll die if they stop…keep dreaming as if-'

"Oi brat, spar with me."

Allen's head shot up to see an utterly beautiful scowling face, eyes of cobalt narrowing in irritation when he received no response. Allen cursed himself for not being more attentive to his surroundings sooner as he nodded with a vibrant smile, following after the navy haired male.

'But Kanda, you've never looked at me like them,' Allen thought stepping through the door's threshold into a training hall, 'from that first encounter…perhaps that's why I feel so comfortable around you. The anger and hostility…I've begun to seek it out.'

"Pay attention Moyashi, I'm not going to go easy on you."

_You people just live on laughing, saying something good will happen tomorrow_

_There was always something different about you and me and_

_The way you talk from the beginning_

"God you're pathetic," Kanda scoffed irately as he glared down at Allen's smiling form. Pale lips spilling mindless apologies as mismatched hands braced against the floor to bring the lithe exorcist to his feet. Spurred on by his frustration Kanda attacks again, the onslaught of advances not letting up for a second.

'Always smiling…so damn infuriating!'

People were dying and they were all risking their lives everyday just by wearing the Black Order's crest over their hearts.

'Still pushing yourself forward...fucking idiot why the hell do you try so hard?'

The blade slices through skin, blood spattering against the cold stone floor. Allen flexes his wrist, taking in the blood trailing down his arm with interest.

"It's a wonder you're still alive. You'd have been better off dying on that first mission if this is the best you can do," Kanda scowled, unable to draw his gaze away from the newest wound on the boy's pale skin, wondering why the hell he'd blocked the attack with his right arm while at the same time thanking his years of training and impeccable control for not severing the boy's arm completely.

A smile lit Allen's face. Kanda turns away. They both know the incredible potential that exists within Allen's innocence because of the boy's reckless and unfathomable ideals; it is because of that power that Kanda spars with Allen. It is because of that power that he can't understand what the hell just happened. It is because _Allen_ holds that power and acts the way he does that Kanda can't help but resent him.

_It's not unusual anymore to get hurt by you_

_So again when you hurt me, I just laugh back at you_

Like a homeless pup, he licks his wounds and readies himself to face the storm again. He could have just as easily blocked the attack with his innocence and saved himself from incurring another injury – no matter how miniscule – but he desires the blade that belongs to _him. _A few drops of blood are a small price to pay to have proof that the interaction was real.

He longs for that which he cannot have. That aching giving rise to twisted needs that he knows he shouldn't indulge.

'God how I wish these feelings were as false as my joy.'

Silver eyes tarnish beneath the mask of amusement as they continue their dance, innocence clashing with deadly precision.

_Just wishing it wasn't real is my only negative way to escape…_

'Che, I've had it with you, get out!'

Kanda sheathes his sword and stalks away. The little abandoned child is thrown out again. Innocence becoming the scarred red appendage once again, Allen bids Kanda good evening before excusing himself from the room.

He pauses on his way back to his room, the rain falling in sheets against the windows. He changes course, veering up a set of stairs, climbing higher and higher towards the tower's peak. He doesn't hesitate as he steps out into the rain, his smile broadening as the cold droplets of precipitation lashes against his face.

'To hide from the storm atop the roof…'

Soft laughter escaped Allen as he was drenched from head to foot. His vision becomes blurry as he stares out into the clouds as thick as tar in the sky and the laughter gives way to sobs.

'To the God I love so much…to the God I loathe…to the God to whom I'm invisible…'

"Give me a reason to continue this farce!"

His obsession grows and he wants Kanda, wants that realistic warmth born of flames...and he doesn't care if he gets burned.

Face upturned to the falling rain Allen hides his tears – they fall freely but no one can see.

"Just once tell me something,' he implores with a heavy heart, 'show me that you're there."

_Ash to ash_

_I am just garbage with an umbrella So give me my dream_

_I am used to hiding underneath the umbrella So I want you for me_

_Can you hear me?_

* * *

A/N: It's been forever, but what better day is there to update than on Kanda's birthday?

So I'm back from my trip and my summer classes don't start for a couple of weeks. I'll be typing up my daily journals from my trip and posting them to my LJ account sometime soon. So if you're interested in knowing where I was and what I was doing last month then check it out.

As for this chapter, I guess it was a bit strange. I'm sure by now, you're all wondering what the heck it is I'm trying to do and where this story is heading but rest assured that the next couple of chapters should satisfy some of your questions. I hope the slow pace isn't boring anyone but I feel that these slow and somewhat dreary chapters are necessary for what I'm trying to portray.

Anyway thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my works.

Comments are welcomed – they make me happy :)


End file.
